Calisthenics
by penspunk
Summary: She knows before she even lands on the mat that she's done something terribly wrong. Gymnastics AU. Hiccstrid.
1. Chapter 1

Prompt: "That's a good look for you."

Word Count - 498

A/N: Gymnastics Hiccstrid AU. First time writing for the httyd fandom! Let me know what you think in the comments.

* * *

The laws of physics state that any object thrown into space by the exertion of a force follows a trajectory that is both predictable and calculable. In an ideal world, once released, the projectile travels through the air in a uniform gravitational field with no air resistance, and lands at a distance that can be computed using a relatively basic mathematical equation.

Simple.

Unfortunately, this is not an ideal world.

And unfortunately, Astrid is today's projectile.

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She knows before she even lands on the mat that she's done something terribly wrong.

Either her release was off, or the bar was set wrong, or her games is just way off.

Time slows when she releases the bar and she spares a millisecond as she spins to glance down at the faded blue plastic that is suddenly too close for comfort, but of course there's nothing she can do now that she's in the air and at the mercy of gravity. She barely has enough time to curl into a defensive position before she hits the ground.

It doesn't hurt when she lands, at least, but she stays down, rolling onto her back to stare up at the lights on the ceiling with a blank mind. She's had worse falls, but something just feels wrong and she refuses to feel anything and this can't be happening right now, not with regionals in two months.

But before she can even lift her neck to assess herself, her coach is there and pushing her head back down and prodding her sides and hips and thighs and shoulders, and it's this last one, on the left, that causes stars to float into her vision and a moan to escape her lips.

In ten minutes she finds herself relocated to the hospital gurney in the corner of her coach's office which functions as the gym's impromptu medical room, wearing a borrowed shoulder support over her leotard and clutching a bag of ice to her left side to numb away the pain that has been blossoming there every time she moves it, and her mood has improved slightly from "blank state of disbelief" to "ultra-bitch in pain." Coach Suthers is glancing at her every few minutes from his desk where he's currently on the phone with some sports-injury specialist or another, and he's insistent that he's not worried but he keeps twisting the phone cord around his fingers in a nervous tic while he talks and it stresses Astrid out just to watch, so she focuses instead on Ruffnut, who's just walked into the office for her practice.

And of course, Ruffnut manages to hit the nail on the head with all her usual delicacy when she takes one look at Astrid lying on the gurney, barks out a laugh, and states, "That's a good look for you, Astrid! Bet the judges are going to _love_ that cuff."


	2. Chapter 2

Prompt: "You want me to do what?"

Word Count - 499

A/N: Thanks for the alerts! Next up, Hiccup.

* * *

Resistance in physics is a negative force. It's purpose is always to act against the force doing work and result in an increased expenditure of energy by the system. Examples of resistant forces one may encounter in every day life include air, tension, and friction; most commonly, heat is produced as a byproduct of these opposing forces interacting.

A much lesser known example of resistant force is stubbornness.

Fortunately, Astrid considers herself quite well-versed on this subject.

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"You want me to do _what_?" Astrid blurts out, clutching her phone to her ear as she struggles with the lanyard of keys she's trying to yank out of her backpack. Of all the advice she expected Coach Suthers to give her in light of her injury two days prior, this does not even make the list.

"I just think it's best if you use this… opportunity to rest a little. Take a break. You've been my top competitor for, geez, two and a half years now? Maybe this is a good chance for you to step back and figure out what you want to do," he continues, oblivious to the pit of dread that is beginning to pool in her stomach as she finally manages to swipe her card access and push open the door to her dorm building. The rush of the air-conditioningis in stark contrast with the muggy heat she just stepped in from, but it does nothing to calm her down.

She's pretty sure the last thing she needs is a break. She can't take a break.

"-and besides, you still need to have everything checked out professionally before I can even _think_ about letting you back in the-"

"I've already made an appointment with my doctor, it's tomorrow," she interrupts hurriedly, before he can finish his sentence.

There's a pause on the other end of the line.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Astrid bypasses the elevator in favor of the stairs, thoughtlessly shrugging her backpack higher onto her shoulders as she walks and wincing from the accompanying pain. "Coach. She's going to check this out and tell me to rest it for a week, and that will be it. And _then_ you can clear me for practice, and I will continue training. Because everything is fine. I'm fine. And nothing is wrong. At all. Nothing."

Because if there's one thing she can't afford, it's a mistake like this costing her the entire season.

And maybe Coach Suthers believes her, or (more likely) can hear the subtle undercurrent of desperation in her tone, because he's silent for only a moment before he heaves an audible sigh and tells her to put more ice on her arm and to make the appointment on time and, "Dammit, don't be lifting anything heavy, you understand?" and then he's hung up and Astrid is left standing in the dorm stairwell with an aching shoulder and throbbing head, staring at the call screen, and wondering just how far this suspension of disbelief can carry her.


	3. Chapter 3

Prompt: "Can we pretend I didn't just say that?"

Word Count - 984

A/N: Alright, so maybe no Hiccup this chapter. Oops! If everything goes to plan he should be making his appearance in the next chapter though. Review!

* * *

In statistics, a negative relationship between two variables, or an inverse relationship, exists when a high value of one variable results in a low value of the other. For example, compressing a gas in a sealed container results in a decrease in the volume of the gas, but an increase in its pressure. Or, as the distance from the earth increases, the force due to gravity can be expected to decrease.

Similarly, it can be assumed that when the amount of stress placed on an individual (read, Astrid) increases, that individual's capacity to maintain their patience will take a sharp nosedive directly into the burning pits of hell, where, coincidentally, Astrid wishes Dr. Hammond was right at this very moment.

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While it is a commonly known fact among family and friends that stress tends to cut Astrid's fuse just a little short, the cheery family physician that Astrid goes to see the next day is wholly unprepared for the onslaught of cold fury and not-so-mental curses she receives upon making her final diagnosis.

Astrid's been fidgeting since she's gotten here, jiggling her feet while she waits (for over an hour) in the waiting room before a run-of-the-mill nurse wearing brightly patterned scrubs escorts her to her exam room, then flipping noisily through the magazines on the table next to her chair while she waits for Dr. Hammond to actually come in, then chewing on her nails while the x-rays are taken, and then just clicking her phone screen on every few minutes to look at the time, because on any normal day she would be in practice right now.

She's not nervous, of course. It's all just pent-up energy from having sat around for a few days with nothing to do but watch T.V. and binge on junk food and study for classes and definitely _not_ think about her arm and how much it hurts - something she won't have to worry about again as soon as this appointment is over and she's cleared for practice. She expects nothing less than to be prescribed with a week's worth of painkillers, a firm command to rest her arm, _maybe_ a sling, and to just generally keep doing what she's been doing - and everything will be fine in a week. Tops.

Except that's not how it happens at all.

Because sweet little Dr. Hammond, who's been Astrid's physician for a few years now and barely reaches Astrid's shoulder and has the disposition of Mother Theresa, walks into the exam room and delivers the news with what must be her kindest and most sympathetic smile.

"Well, unfortunately if looks like you have a torn rotator cuff, Astrid. I'm not a specialist but I can estimate that this'll put your arm out of use for a few weeks, at least. The good news is we've got a few options. It's hard to determine with things like this whether you will need reparative surgery or just physical therapy, but it all depends on how your arm and those muscles respond to the therapy that you'll need to start - as soon as possible, preferably. I can recommend a few doctors in the area who have experience with sports injuries, and I'm sure once you've attended a few sessions we'll have a better idea how to move forward with…"

But Astrid's not listening, her mind stuck like a broken record on the one important bit of information she's received so far.

Few. Weeks?

"I'm sorry," she interrupts, and barely notices that she's cutting the woman off mid-sentence. "But… so… okay. When can I go back to practice?"

Dr. Hammond stares at her blankly before she gives a tinkling laugh, as if the question is somehow absurd. "Oh, I imagine it will be quite a while, yes."

And the panic that's been hovering at the back of her mind since she fell is boiling up from Astrid's stomach into her throat like acid, faster than she can swallow it back down, so she grips the edge of the table with white fingers and leans forward in the suddenly too bright room, and asks through clenched teeth, "What?"

"Of course, I can't give any official guesses how many sessions it will take, that depends on what the physician I refer you to decides once-"

"Are you_ fucking_ kidding me?!"

…

The beat of silence that follows those too loud words is enough for Astrid to gain a handle on herself and catch the look on Dr. Hammond's face turn from shock to anger, and Astrid barely has to think before she slowly sits back down on the exam table in a haze (when did she get up?) and laughs nervously in a feeble attempt to brush off her incredibly rude outburst.

"Um… can we pretend I didn't just say that?"

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She waits to make the call until she's driven a good long way from the clinic (that she is almost certainly banned from now) and has cleared her head. She's in full business mode.

"Coach."

"Ah, Astrid. I was just wondering how your appointment was going! I hope you've got-"

"I tore my rotator cuff."

She pretends not to hear the slight intake of breath she hears from Coach Suthers on the other end, opting to sip on her Sonic drink while she waits for the street light to turn green.

"I… see."

"I need to start physical therapy soon, apparently. And I'm _not_ going to whatever idiot that damned physician just referred me to. So before you try and tell me-"

"That's fine, Astrid," he interrupts. "I've found someone I think can help, anyway."

She pauses. "Oh." The light turns green before she's ready, and she fumbles to put the styrofoam cup back into the cup holder before pressing on the gas pedal.

"So… who is it?"

"Well. There's a physical therapist a friend recommended to me - Dr. Belch. Ever heard of him?"


	4. Chapter 4

Prompt: "Are you flirting with me?"

Word Count: 1,937

A/N: Well, I have no other excuse except for the fact that I was blindsided by finals and work and a complete inability to write this chapter. Here's hoping to a sooner update next chapter!

Beta'd by the ever lovely idolsidle, without whom I would still be stuck in writer's block!

* * *

Colloids are substances in which microscopically dispersed insoluble particles are suspended throughout a second substance. Examples of colloids can include a number of emulsions, aerosols, and foams, such as fog, milk, butter, and cream. The particles in a colloid do not settle and cannot be separated through either filtration or centrifugation, making this a unique mixture.

Astrid can only recall the term vaguely from one of her middle school science classes, years ago when she and her classmates would huddle around the teacher during lab as he conducted the weekly school board-approved experiment (that she could have probably done in her kitchen). She remembers watching oil being poured into a beaker of water as her teacher mentioned terms such as "hydrophobic properties" and "miscibility", the oil droplets swirling down to the bottom of the beaker before floating their way back to the top, completely intact, until they formed a thin layer of yellow film over the top of the water's surface. And while her classmates ooh'ed and aah'ed, Astrid remembers standing there with her arms folded, bored and completely unimpressed.

It was common knowledge, after all, that oil and water don't mix.

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9:15 a.m.

It is (appropriately) raining when Astrid walks into the nondescript clinic in the middle of town a few days later, fumbling with her umbrella as she shakes off the excess rainwater before stepping fully inside and taking in the small but comfortable looking reception area.

It's… warm. Unlike the sterile brightness that she expected, the room is all warm colors and comfortable chairs and a homey atmosphere. The plump lady behind the counter is smiling at her in greeting and so Astrid moves forward, rubber boots squeaking loudly on the tiles in the awkward silence that seems to permeate all doctor's waiting rooms, as she glances in passing at its other occupants.

Coach Suthers had described Dr. Belch as a physical therapist who specialized in sports injuries, and she can see that in his clientele. Most occupants of the room seem toned and healthy (excusing their obvious injuries). There's an older woman with a neck brace in the corner, reading this week's issue of Tennis. Some kid wearing a high school football jersey and a full arm cast idly tapping away on his phone. A girl with a knee brace in a college track team jacket who is chewing on a granola bar.

A boy who looks to be her age, staring right back at her.

She glances away quickly, and the next few minutes pass without incident as she talks to the receptionist and hands her the insurance paperwork, receives the new patient forms and sits herself down in an isolated chair with some questionable stains on the fabric and begins filling them out, praying that this visit goes smoothly and wonderfully, and that she's left mostly to herself while she nervously taps on the arm of the chair and tries not to chew on the pen she's borrowed from the pot on the desk. That nothing happens to cause her to lose her-

"Hey."

Well, then.

Astrid heaves a sigh. It's the boy who was staring at her, of course.

And she's understandably not exactly on her best behavior today, so she replies with a curt "What?" barely glancing up before going back to scribbling her address in the little text boxes on the page. She's not sure what he's here for - he's not wearing a visible cast or brace - but she highly doubts his issue is in any way sports related; he's just not got the build of an athlete. What he _does_ have is a slightly nasally voice, and that coupled with the thin, long frame and freckled face seem vaguely familiar, but she can't exactly place him and also can't be bothered with sparing the mental energy to do so.

"Uh…" he fidgets in his chair, and she can spot his nervous smile out of the corner of her eye. "Astrid, right? Astrid Hofferson?"

Though apparently, she's going to have to.

Attention caught, Astrid pauses in her writing and turns to face the stranger - non-stranger? - fully, noting the slight gap between his two front teeth, the green of his eyes, the thin lips, and now he's _definitely_ familiar.

But hell if she remembers who he is.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Ah - yes, no, yeah." The boy laughs a bit awkwardly, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. "We, uh, went to high school together. Berk High, class of 2013?" He smiles expectantly.

Aaanndd she's still drawing a blank.

His smile falls just a bit. "Henry? Henry Haddock?" he points to himself.

"Haddock…" she mulls. The name is familiar… "Oohh, you were Principle Haddock's son?"

"Yeah," he brightens. "That's me. Although, I guess people knew me better as-"

"Hiccup! That's right."

Well she definitely remembers _that_.

"Wait, weren't you the one who set the chemistry lab on fire freshman year? _And_ short circuited the intercom system right before graduation? They had to postpone the ceremony for over an hour before they managed to fix that, I remember because all the parents were absolutely…" Astrid trails off, realizing that she's rambling, and also noting the potential awkwardness of the topic.

She remembers Hiccup -vaguely - from Berk, and what she remembers isn't very… flattering. He'd been a bit of a klutz, always setting something off, or getting into trouble with his father, and more than one incident involving him had ended in notable damage to school property. He'd never been treated with much respect by his peers, preferring to bury himself in some ill-concocted plan or extra-credit schoolwork during free-period in the library. As a result, Astrid hadn't crossed paths with him very often, but the few interactions they'd had involved much stuttering and blushing and uncomfortableness on his part.

But now Hiccup just laughs and waves her off flippantly with an easygoing confidence that is _definitely_ new, and jokes, "Ah yes, you remember my work."

And Astrid can't help but give him a sardonic look at that and put her pen down. "Your 'work.' So that's what you call it?"

Hiccup laughs again, awkwardly this time. "Yeah, well, in any case I do apologize for the whole graduation," he gestures broadly with one hand, "… fiasco. I was, uh, actually trying to alter the piston driver in the speaker box to accommodate for resonance at lower frequencies without compromising the weight of the system, but I forgot that the manufacturer's crossover network wasn't designed to handle the audio signals that was producing, and _then_ when I tried to adjust the suspension to compensate, it sort of just…" Hiccup trails off at the blank look on Astrid's face and coughs. "But anyway. I _am_ sorry. That sort of thing just… always happened to me back then."

Astrid eyes him dubiously. "Happened?" She can't imagine Hiccup as having changed very much since then, if she's being honest, but he does manage to look at least slightly offended at her response.

"Well, it's been, what, two and a half years?" he scoffs good-naturedly. "I would hope I'd been doing _some_ growing up, don't you-" His gesturing knocks a stack of magazine off of the table next to his chair mid-sentence and Astrid can only cock an eyebrow at his embarrassed expression as he rushes to pick them up, red creeping up his cheeks as he mutters under his breath, and _this_? This is a lot closer to the Hiccup she remembers.

What follows is an awkward silence where Hiccup shuffles around a bit and stares at the ground and Astrid looks back down at the patient forms she has yet to finish. She barely has a moment to consider going back to finishing them before Hiccup interrupts again.

"So," he begins, and it's obvious he's fishing around for another topic of conversation. "What have you been up to since high school?" His tone is light, respectfully curious with the air of someone who is just asking to ask, but the question somehow reminds Astrid of why she is actually here, and her injury is the last thing she needs to think about right now so she deflects.

"Oh, you know. College stuff, classes, all of… that." She shrugs noncommittally and hopes that doesn't sound lame. "What about you?"

"Same! I'm up at IIT right now doing engineering and physics, and it's great. I've been really busy recently with a couple of internships at firms nearby and my research proposal is due to my advisor in a couple of weeks, but I'm enjoying it! I haven't had much time for extracurriculars, though. Started dabbling with the robotics club last year, and that was really interesting, but I haven't had time this semester what with all this work." He rolls his eyes. "You know how it goes."

Astrid doesn't and she can't help but be impressed, but she's not about to mention that. In all honesty, her main focus in the three years since high school has been gymnastics and gymnastics practices and gymnastics meets and gymnastics trips- which are time consuming, yes, but… nowhere near as stressful as Hiccup's schedule sounds.

"I couldn't imagine having my workload on top of your extracurriculars, though. Do you still run cross-country?"

Astrid starts at the question, surprised that he remembers. "Oh, no. No, that was just high school."

"Ah. I remember the team had practice almost every day. And then you did gymnastics as well, right? _And_ you kept a four-point-oh - that's impressive."

His grin is incredibly bright.

"Right…it is?"

"Are you kidding? I couldn't imagine having to find time to work out and go to practice in between classes and keep my grades up at the same time. Not that any amount of working out would do me any good, unlike you," he holds up an arm and jokingly flexes a bicep. "But I guess that's normal for you. I mean you must be used to-"

"Are you flirting with me?"

The question is blurted out unexpectedly, and Astrid curses her mouth for opening against her will for the second time this week. She might be a blunt person, but she really needs to work on her filter.

Hiccup, meanwhile, is frozen mid-gesture with his mouth still open, eyes staring blankly at her as he processes what she's just said, and Astrid isn't sure what on earth he's going to say, but she can feel the heat of embarrassment crawling up her neck and onto her face.

Way to go, Hofferson. Make a fool of yourself in front of the old high school nerd.

Luckily for Hiccup, he's spared the chance to reply.

"Mr. Haddock?" The voice comes from the door where a nurse waits with clipboard in hand, startling them both, and Hiccup jerks back into motion, cheeks flushing from the awkwardness of this entire situation. Nodding to the nurse, he glances back at Astrid with an uncomfortable smile as he grabs a backpack from the seat next to him and slings it over his shoulder, and Astrid can't quite read the look in his eyes as he opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again to finally reply, "I… no, that… I mean, it was, uh, nice seeing you, Astrid!" before sliding by her with an awkward half wave.

And between the mixture of embarrassment and relief that she is feeling, Astrid has only a moment to notice the slight limp that Hiccup walks to the nurse with before the door shuts behind him, leaving her again to her papers.


	5. Chapter 5

Prompt: "If there's one thing the world needs more of…"

Word Count: 923

A/N: So I think this would be a good time to announce that I've started grad school and it's kicking my free time's ass. This might possibly (definitely) be the reason why this chapter has taken so long to get to you guys. But the official announcement as of now is that this fic is definitely not abandoned - updates might be sporadic and far between, but they WILL come. A huge thank you to everyone that's reviewed or PMed me recently - you all are so encouraging and kind! Please feel free to review - I'd like to know how you all are interpreting Astrid's character.

* * *

Charles Sanders Peirce suggests that deductive reasoning can be divided into two separate segments: corollarial and theorematic. A corollary is defined as a statement that can be derived logically based on a previous statement - _B _is corollary of _A _if it can be derived from _A_, for example.

A key flaw to this system is that corollation is dependent entirely upon both author and context.

Change the author or context, and you change the corollation too.

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"So, get this. My physical therapist is a complete _nut!_"

Ruffnut is watching Real Housewives from the bed on her side of the dorm and is completely focused on catching cheese balls in her mouth when Astrid walks into the room and tosses her bag to the floor, dropping bodily onto the couch with a long sigh. It's only a little past noon and she has a small mountain of classwork to catch up on now that her appointment is over, but for the first time in days, it feels like a little bit of the weight on her chest has lifted.

Ruffnut's grunt in reply is disinterested at best.

"He's Scottish or something - I dunno, he has an accent - and he's got like, vintage bagpipes hung up in his office. He says he's part of a troupe."

"Uh-huh."

"And he's putting me on some kind of weird physiotherapy regiment for my shoulder, I've never heard of it but he insists it's going to help. Apparently I just need to work on restrengthening my rotator cuff with some basic exercises without overexerting it."  
"Mhmm."

"... Also he's got a fake arm and a peg leg."

Ruffnut chokes on a cheese ball and finally turns her full attention to Astrid, who laughs.

"_Why_ would you not lead with that?" she demands, shuffling around so that she's facing the couch and leaning forward to grab a bottle of water from the ground.

"He walked into the room and I just, almost had a heart attack because I wasn't expecting my _physical therapist_ to be missing _two limbs_, and he was wearing these plaid shorts under his white coat but he said that he prefers wearing kilts on his days off, and he keeps two pet iguanas in his house, and he's got this weird mustache that he _braids_ and he's a _physical therapist _on top..."

Ruffnut snorts and shakes her head. "Well, if there's one thing the world needs more of."

"Mm."

Astrid trails off in thought for a few minutes while on T.V., Kyle and Mauricio argue about some romantic charity bike event, and Ruff goes back to eating. Her appointment had honestly gone better than she'd expected it to - especially after her less than pleasant meeting with Dr. Hammond. Dr. Belch (he insisted she call him 'Gobber,' whatever that meant) had been more than open to discussing her options for treatment. He'd worked with enough athletes to know that telling them to not train was futile, apparently, and firmly believed in combining therapy routines with his patients' sports disciplines to keep them in shape throughout treatment.

Either way it had been a huge relief for Astrid. This meant she was at least allowed to go back to the gym during regular practice times to do her physical therapy exercises between appointments, and just the thought of somewhat returning to her old routine was comforting.

This was the first step to getting back on track for regionals, and hell if she was going to slack off now.

"So you think it'll be fine?"

The question jerks Astrid back to the present and she realizes that Ruffnut has abandoned both the Housewives and her cheese puffs and is staring intently at her from her bed. At the confused look she receives, Ruff only nods towards the shoulder cuff Astrid is still wearing, and waits for her reply.

There is a pause before Astrid brushes the question off easily. "Oh, yeah." Her arm hasn't twinged quite as painfully as before for a few days now, and if dedication to her physical therapy treatment plan is all she needs to get better, this is going to be a piece of cake.

She pointedly ignores Ruffnut's cocked eyebrow in response to her nonchalant answer.

"Oh." Astrid remembers suddenly. "I almost forgot. I ran into someone from high school today. Do you remember Henry Haddock?"

"Who?"

"Henry. The principle's son."

"...who?"

"Henry Hadd- oh for God's sake, Hiccup. Do you remember Hiccup?"

"Oh!" Ruffnut's entire demeanor immediately changes with a look that is unexpectedly excited.

"Hiccup? As in the boy who single-handedly got me out of having to take my Algebra 2 final back in '11 when he set the fire alarm off in the west building? Pfft, uh, yeah! I still owe that boy a thank you for saving my ass - do you have any idea how badly I would have failed? You know, I'm pretty sure he's the only reason I graduated on time."

Astrid rolls her eyes at Ruff's dramatics. "Yeah, him. He was at the clinic today too."

Ruffnut cocks an eyebrow. "Yeah? How was that?"

"He was... different. I dunno. I can't believe it'll be almost three years since high school. Is time speeding up, or is it just me? It feels like just yesterday we were on the playground in middle school, beating each other up and-"

"Wait, so what was he doing at a PT clinic?"

"...what?"

"Hiccup, you saw him at the clinic. What was he there for?"

"Oh... " Astrid trails off.

"I have no idea."


End file.
